Mind-blown
by naboru narluin
Summary: Vortex is bored, but surprisingly Blast Off helps passing the time. / G1 / comedy, smut (non-graphic plug'n'play, sensor net play) / Blast Off/Vortex


**Title:** Mind-blown  
**Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty's Dysfunction AU)  
**Warnings:** comedy, smut (non-graphic plug'n'play, sensor net play)  
**Characters:** Blast Off/Vortex  
**28 Blast Off Meme**** Prompt:** Naughty  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Vortex is bored, but surprisingly Blast Off helps passing the time.  
**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
**Beta:** ultharkitty, thank you so much! :D

**Note:** More OTP smut. I wrote so much of that in the last few weeks, but those two are just so fun to write. ._.

* * *

**Mind-blown**

Vortex was bored.

There was literally nothing to do except wait until something happened, but something happening was very unlikely. His fingers tapped impatiently on the control console of the Nemesis' monitor room. Five breems until his shift would finally be over.

Five very, very long breems…

He sighed audibly, and raised his optical ridges, glancing at the many monitors once more. Nothing had changed, only a little light blinked on a smaller monitor in the left lower corner.

Vortex rebooted his optics to be sure he saw it right, then he sat up. He typed swiftly on the console, and grinned. A comm-link opened; he didn't even wait for an answer and just spoke cheerfully.

"Hey, Thrusters! How's it going?"

The monitor flickered once, and a staticky growl could be heard in the room that made Vortex giggle.

"What do you want?"

"I'm bored," Vortex announced happily, and leant back.

"Why did I expect this answer?" Blast Off muttered, and Vortex could almost see the annoyed shake of the head.

Only Blast Off was in alt-mode right now. In space, and had just came into communication range.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you think that question is funny? What do you think I am doing? I'm in space, in low Earth orbit! There is not much I can do!"

Wow, someone was cranky. Vortex grinned behind his battle mask. "That means you're bored, too?" Someone could hope, right?

For a moment, the shuttle didn't answer, and just when Vortex was going to repeat his question, Blast Off's comm crackled.

"Let's say I'm just tired of seeing the same places over and over again. Why can't they let me fly to its moon for a change? Vector Sigma. Not that it'd be more exciting, but it'd be something else at least."

Vortex snickered. Blast Off admitting he was bored really meant something.

/And the human TV signals I pick up are so disgraceful. How does a race producing something like this survive for so long?/

The grin on Vortex' face broadened. Blast Off was entertaining when bored, or annoyed. Or both. That was the reason Vortex pushed his luck.

"I wanna frag you." He knew it wasn't possible, but he could goad the other into a bit more complaining and elicit a few more grumpy remarks.

"You got yourself some funny virus, didn't you? I'm in space, you imbecile."

"But that wasn't a no," Vortex countered.

Again a longer pause, in which the 'copter hoped he hadn't overdone it. He didn't want his entertainment to vanish again.

When the answer came, it wasn't what Vortex had anticipated.

"No, it was not."

"Huh?" Vortex sat up straight once more, but didn't have time to ask what the shuttle meant.

"I guess you have a data transfer cable somewhere on the control console? You might want to plug it into your wrist port."

"Oh?" Vortex hastily looked over all the buttons and switches in front of him, and found the hatch with the cable in less than 20 astroseconds. He plugged it into his wrist port instantly, his rotors quivering in anticipation of whatever Blast Off would do.

At first, only some random data from Nemesis' computers was transmitted, but then the connection to the shuttle in space became clearer.

"Oh?" Vortex' visor brightened when a pleasant tingling spread through him. "Oooh… hmm," he sighed, and grinned. He almost missed the ping for limited access to his sensor net because he was focusing on the sensations so much.

He pondered for a mere few astroseconds before he granted permission – Blast Off knew what he was doing, right – and waited for more.

And it came. Heat travelled along his rotor blades, caused their quivering to increase and was almost like they melted. Vortex' fingers became weirdly tingly, and arms and legs heavy. It was as though they were pulled down, as though he had to adjust his hydraulic pressure because a slight ache began to pulsate inside them.

It was a good ache, causing a restlessness, an urge to move them without moving them for real.

"Oh frag…" Vortex moaned. Heat spread further, from his rotors into his whole frame, and then there was pressure on the blades. On his main and tail rotors. First only a slight sting, punctuated pressure on tiny spots which then grew and became like touch.

Vortex bit his lip. Frag, oh _frag_. He gasped.

The assault switched to more precise areas, causing different sensations on different parts. The upper sides of the rotor blades glowed hot while their underside seemed to freeze. The contrast was maddening, intense on nodes that were so sensitive.

Vortex' cooling fans switched on, and his fingers curled against the console. His other hand clutched at his own interface panel when it was like several little fingers stroked over his covered components. The metal was hot under his touch, for real, no imagination when the pleasure of the variety of input gathered behind it.

Vortex' charge rose, and his moans became more frantic.

"Oh frag, oh frag, oh _frag_!" He knew Blast Off would hear him, but it was so difficult to be quiet. "Mmpf!" he uttered when he tried to hinder more sounds from escaping.

"I didn't say anything about you having to be quiet."

"Ah!" Vortex cried out at a most intense wave of pain and pleasure on all his sensors. His rotors felt as though they were bent, lines inside his arms where pinched, fingers squeezed and gears in his legs broken. That, together with Blast Off's low laugh that echoed in the room was almost enough to send him over.

Vortex pressed his forehead against the control console, his optics where offline and he imagined Blast Off to be behind him. It was so easy with air being blown over sensor clusters on his blades, with the touch on them, on his sides, hands running up and down, teasing the interface panel maddeningly.

"Open your panel," Blast Off growled, and Vortex happily complied. It was stupid, because the shuttle wasn't there, but he now felt his own glowing hot hardware on his palm.

"Touch yourself." Another order that made Vortex moan. Sigma, how he loved Blast Off being dominant like that.

Real touch added to the phantom sensations when Vortex stroked the rim of his interface port.

"Hm, ah, slag!" Vortex arched his back, wanted to press his rotors against the one who was behind him – at least for a moment – only there was no one. The data changed, vibrations of another engine were conducted in the sensitive metal of his rotors, and he gasped anew.

The port on his wrist heated due to the strain of information, but it was just another pleasure within the whole.

It became more by every astrosecond. Pleasure travelled, increased, decreased, was more intense in different places, and most intense on the interface hardware. Vortex' energy field pulsed as frantically as his vocaliser created staticky noises.

And then it was too much.

"Oh my, oh frag, oh Sigma!" Charge poured over him in a hail of sensations. Vortex' frame tensed, rotors went rigid only to shudder more wildly again. His cries were drowned out by static, and his energy field invaded the circuits of the console he almost lay on.

Even during overload, the sensations didn't ebb, prolonging it instead, so that Vortex thought his processor was going to shut down.

He lay on the control console in front of the screen for almost a breem. Shivering, moaning softly, forehead next to three buttons. His fingers had dug into a seam next to the hatch the data cable emerged from. Satiation had taken over, accompanied with wonderful post overload tickles. Blast Off still made sensors light up now and then, but it wasn't as intense as before.

Slowly, Vortex sat up, cooling fans still working. "Slag, that was amazing…"

The shuttle huffed amused. It was only the sound of a huff, because there was no air in space. "It better have been."

Vortex grinned, offlining his optics for the moment when a more powerful tingle that ran down his frame. "Did this do anything for you?" It was a genuine question, because, maybe…

"No. But when I get back, I fully expect you to pay me back." Blast Off's voice still had the amused undertone, and Vortex' grin broadened.

"I'll be happy to do that," Oh, and how he would! "Your re-entry is scheduled when?"

"Seven joors. You better be awake then."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes, but only because I know it turns you on."

At that, Vortex laughed.

"I'm going to be out of communication range in 16 astroseconds. Make sure to delete the log of this _session_."

"Will do." The 'copter nodded, even though Blast Off couldn't see him. Then, Blast Off's presence was gone. Vortex felt oddly empty without the lingering data stream, but it was okay. Seven joors weren't that long if he could recharge through them.

He typed quickly to get to the file the computer had recorded. He made a copy to himself, transferred it through the still established connection. He then disconnected himself from the console.

Only one more klik, and he was free to go. Excited, even though a little tired, he spun on his chair a few times, and only stopped when he saw the blurred blotch on the other computer at the opposite wall.

Vortex grinned when Dead End stared at him, appearing disconcerted. "What?" he asked, and caused the mech to wince. Vortex would have to hide the fact from Blast Off that he didn't have shift alone.

"You're sick," Dead End muttered, and grimaced.

"Hehe." A laugh, and Vortex shuffled his rotors invitingly, making his tail rotor spin; he put fake static in his voice. "You're jealous?"

The other face was hidden behind a battle mask, but the flicker of his visor betrayed him.


End file.
